A/N: Well here is Part III. It's quite short, but i intended for it to be that way. Part III is my favorite yet, so hold on tight cause it'll only get more intense! Plus cute boys kissing is always good. Enjoy! (slash)

Part Three

He had been asleep for hours. So much to say for myself.

My fear for this boy’s life had kept me awake, my ciggarette addiction kicking my ass, and my body begging for just one hour of dreaming. My bed was suddenly lumpy, my back suddenly ached, my room suddenly too hot. My mind always went back to the bruised boy asleep on my leather couch, sleeping in a world I could imagine was too tormented to concieve.

I was too tired by this to even attempt to get up to light up a smoke. I did so right there in my bed.

Reaching with pain to an empty water glass, I ashed constantly into the half-inch of water still floating at the glass’s bottom. The smoke filled my lungs, I felt my addiction and need subside, exhaling in sickness that I could be so hopelessly devoted to something that was slowly killing me.

It was all I could do, though. Paint, work, and smoke. That’s what I had been evenly reduced to. A drone to make people’s coffee, smell raw coffee beans till my head throbbed, and paint my days away when I wasn’t dealing with the rude public, a ciggarette always lit and in hand.

I was twenty. A hopeless romantic always wanting that boy to sweep me off my feet and hold me till I could breathe no more, I was always searching for the one spend the rest of my days with, sipping tea and holding one another’s hands. I had yet to find him.

I doubted he even existed. My past boyfriends had been those “special one’s” I so thoroughly dreamed of finding. Both cheating and leaving me in shambles to cry myself to sleep and hope I could sew back together what was left of me. I eventually picked up and moved on….eventually.

But now I knew what was happening. My caretaker instinct was kicking in, along with my desire for love and affection. But this boy was so damn beautifulk, so tender and fragile. I wanted to give him all he never had. I wanted to show him a love he could never know. My heart was melting at the very thought of his whispers in my ear, his hands on my face, his lips on mine.

Sleep never came that night.

I heard him move slightly as I finished wiping my kitchen counter the proceeding morning. I had to be at work in two hours, confused on how he would do alone at my apartment; assuming he was going to stay with me.

“Good morning,” I whispered, leanign down next to him. He turned over, eyes wide open, and grinned a cute smile. My eyes lit up.

“Feeling better?” I asked, turning to put on the tea.

“Much better, thanks to you,” he replied, stretching and grunting. I beamed.

“Good. Well, we have a lot of talking to do, and I have work to be at in a few hours, so would you like some tea and a good conversation?”

“I should be getting home,” was all he said, sort of cold and nonchalant. I sighed.

“I can’t let you go home. You’re dad beat you and you want to go back?” I asked, bewildered. I approached him as he put on his jacket and proceeded to the door.

“He’s my dad, Demitri. The only one I got. I’ll see you around,” He mumbled, my eyes wide and desperate, his body slowly inching back across the hallway.

He turned and planted his warm lips on mine for a breaf moment, his cheeks red and a shy smile proceeding his wake back to his apartment. I could feel my face flush as I got increasingly hotter.

My day, no matter how tired I was, went by so quickly the smile he left me with never left my face.